The date
by Avid fangirl for life
Summary: Regina goes on a date after being set up by Katherine, he's boring and the way he looks at her makes her wish she'd stayed at home with Emma. Contains a little bit of fluff.


You sit in the restaurant, surrounded by happy couples, and you have no idea why you're here. The guy sat across from you has spent the past twenty minutes blatantly checking you out. The way he's looking at you is predatory, and you hate it. It's obvious to you now that to him, you are no more than a booty call. Nothing more than another number to add to his long list of fucks.

The conversation between you is stunted, coming in bits and pieces, polite but utterly dull. He could not bore you more if he was trying. When he does speak, in between staring at your chest (which you know is rather impressive but still) it's to talk about himself. You know a lot about him, but you're almost certain that he can't even remember your name. And sure, he's nice to look at, but that's about his only redeeming quality.

You know that you should've stayed home, you could be curled up on the sofa next to Emma, watching crappy tv or a film. A glass of wine and popcorn coveted from her bowl. Her shoulder to lean against as the evening draws on, her familiar scent surrounding you. Instead you'd gotten yourself 'all dolled up' (in her words of course) and pep talked yourself into going on this date.

Secretly, you've been dreading it for more than a week. Pretty much ever since the moment you were set up by Katherine if you're being honest with yourself. You'd gotten so bored of listening to her go on and on and on about how you should put yourself out there and mingle and try to enjoy yourself. You'd gotten so bored of the talks about how she knows that you must be lonely, about how much good falling in love would be for you.

You should've stayed home. Emma had offered to get the door, to tell your date that you were ill, or that something had come up last minute. She'd seemed almost eager to do so. Not that that meant anything. She was just being a good best friend and room mate. You should have taken her up on her offer, you could be home in complete comfort at this very minute.

You could be at home with Emma instead of sitting in some restaurant wishing she was with you. Instead of wishing that she was sat opposite you, in the place of the most dull man on the planet. Because let's face it, you want it to be her sat here with you more than you're willing to admit. You've known it for quite some time. And maybe that's part of why you finally relented to Katherine's ceaseless nagging. Maybe you were hoping that he would distract you from the feeling of Emma's arm encircling you, her warmth next to you, the sound of her laughing under her breath.

Maybe you were hoping that by finally relenting, you would illicit a reaction in Emma. Really, you don't know what you were expecting. A fit of raging jealousy perhaps? A confession of feelings, undying love? That's ridiculous of course, because that would be so untypically Emma that it would never happen. Nothing would ever illicit such a reaction in Emma, in most concerns she's far too laid back for that. That's without considering the fact that this is reality and not a Shakespeare play.

Your date for the evening has finally stopped looking at you like you're his next meal, because your food has arrived. You're glad of the distraction, because you've never been more bored and uncomfortable in your life. You swear he's even worse than the last person Mother had set you up with, and he had been at least three times your age.

At the end of the evening, he propositions you. When you refuse, as politely as you can, he offers to walk you to your door, and not wanting to be rude (old habits die hard) you let him. It happens as you turn away to put your key in the door. Before you can even register what's happening, he has you pressed against your front door, his hand groping at your chest. You try to shove him away, but you can't quite manage it.

You hear a sound behind the door, and all of a sudden your date's no longer suctioned to your lips. No, he's on the other side of the hall, looking throughly dazed. He's shaking his head, looking so confused that for the first time all evening he's mildly amusing. Emma stands half in front of you, shoulders squared and tense, her spine straight and rigid. You know that if you could see her face you would see her eyes blazing and her mouth set in a straight line.

You feel bad for your date, but not as bad as you should. Emma in her anger is very distracting. He shouldn't have tried anything, he shouldn't have presumed and he most certainly shouldn't have forced himself on you the way he had. You can see her fingers flexing and you know her fingers are just itching to wind their way around his throat. Either that or she wants to throttle him so badly that it hurts and she's restraining herself because anger is not the answer. Her anger at people when they treat you badly never fails to surprise you, because she's normally so relaxed that the change in her attitude is astonishing.

Your date finally pulls himself together enough to stand straight, and he seems to decide that it is a good idea to square up to Emma. It most certainly isn't a good idea, but of course his masculinity's been challenged. You can see him trying to match Emma in terms of hostility and aggression and even with added bravado, he just can't manage it. Because he can't remember your name, your just tonight's conquest to him but to Emma you're the person who matters most in the world.

He seems to recognise this, and he falters but he stupidly still doesn't back down. He should've left by now, or you should have intervened and you don't know why you haven't. Emma takes a deep breath through gritted teeth and you can tell that she's trying oh-so-hard to restrain herself.

"Get out" her hands are clenched into fists at her sides, and you know it's because he took advantage of you "now" she hisses when he hesitates. You blink and he's gone.

She turns to look at you, concern etched into every plane of her face. You pull her gently into your shared apartment and close the door. As soon as the lock clicks into place, the familiar sense of security surrounds you.

"You okay?" She asks, concern colouring her voice.

"Yes, of course. Emma, you didn't need to do that."

She seems to hear something in your voice that isn't there. Some form of admonishment or annoyance, because the space between her eyebrows creases into a frown, and dammit she's adorable and maybe overly protective but you love that about her. You don't allow her time to speak before you add.

"But thank you all the same. You're adorable when you're overly protective."

She smirks at that. "Overly? You're kidding, right? Did you see that guy? He looked at you like you were a piece of meat! Anyway, I didn't hit him."

"That's an improvement. It had to be the highlight of the evening."

"That bad?" She doesn't look impressed when you hum in confirmation. "What an idiot? If I took you on a date, I'd make sure to keep it interesting."

"You've certainly put some thought into it, anything to tell me dear?"

She looks at you and out of nowhere everything feels much more uncertain.

"Maybe." Is her only answer.

"Maybe?"

'Gina, do you wanna go on a date with me? Tomorrow?"

The confusion must show on your face, and her face scrunches up like she's sure she just made the biggest mistake. You can see she's about to take it back, to do that awkward laugh of hers that she uses in uncomfortable situations and act as if it's no big deal. So despite the erratic beating of your heart (it picked up and started skipping beats at her words) you man up and take a step towards her. You stand on tiptoes and kiss her, even though her idiot face is still scrunched up. You whisper "yes" against her lips and it's cliched and cheesy and like something out of a god damn awful rom com that you watch on Saturday nights but fuck, you don't care. Maybe your date wasn't such a waste of an evening after all.


End file.
